Respite from Chicken: Inaugural Undisputed 2,400% Correct Fast Food Fish Sandwich Rankings

Fast food fish sandwiches ranked from best to abomination.

McDonald's Filet-O-Fish container box
McDonald's Filet-O-Fish container box

Issue #2,400

For those adhering to the religious tenets of the Lenten season, meat cannot be consumed on Fridays. Unfortunately for sea creatures, in this context, meat is defined as warm-blooded animals who walk on land or fly in the sky.

If you're a fast-food restaurant not named Long John Silver's, you've got a serious problem — for eight days in 2025, a sizable segment of your customers can't buy what you're selling.

Pan-seared salmon? Yes. Quarter Pounder? No — land-based cattle.

Clam chowder? Yes. McRib? No — land-based pigs.

Tuna poke? Yes. Chicken McNuggets? No — machine-bolted-to-land pink slime that was, at some point, sorta'-I-guess a flying but mostly land-based chicken.

So, to give adherents a reason to visit them, just about every fast-food restaurant of note adds some version of a fish sandwich to their menus.

And while Clucking Crispy is the world's leading source of fried chicken sandwich journalism, we too must look at oceanic offerings during this period and provide an objective analysis of popular choices in the marketplace.

We're separating nine sandwiches into four categories:

Reel it in — Worth sampling.

Walk the plank but don't jump off — An icon that we're torn about.

Throw it back — These are poor choices that we regretted almost instantly.

20,000 leagues under the sea and into hell — Run away and just eat vegetables instead. Maybe consume large amounts of alcohol to damage the brain cells that will forever haunt you with this one's memory.

The following are ranked from best to abomination. Prices shown are what we paid at locations in Los Angeles County, and should be on offer until at least Sunday, April 20:

Reel it in

1. Popeyes Classic Flounder Fish Sandwich — $6.99

Popeyes Classic Flounder Fish Sandwich
Popeyes Classic Flounder Fish Sandwich

The brioche bun delightfully complements the Alaskan flounder filet, while the pickles and tartar sauce don't overtake the overall experience, as they do with others on the list. It's as fine of a fast-food fish sandwich that you will find out there.

2. Church's Texas Chicken Fish Sandwich — $4.99

Church's Fish Sandwich
Church's Fish Sandwich

It looks so simple and plain. Church's didn't add anything unique or unconventional. They just cooked the filet to near perfection. By the way, did you know Church’s Chicken rebranded a few years ago to Church’s Texas Chicken in the U.S., and Texas Chicken internationally? I sure as f— didn’t, and judging by the branding at every branch in Southern California, these franchisees did not either. What is “Texas” chicken? It’s the exact same as Church’s previously non-Texas chicken.

3. Burger King Fiery Big Fish — $6.99

Burger King Fiery Big Fish
Burger King Fiery Big Fish

The fiery version is the only way to go at Burger King. Otherwise, it's a hard pass. The heat isn't deadly but adds a nice touch of flavor to what would otherwise be a very average sandwich.

4. Arby’s King’s Hawaiian Fish Deluxe Sandwich — $6.59

Arby’s King’s Hawaiian Fish Deluxe Sandwich
Arby’s King’s Hawaiian Fish Deluxe Sandwich

The King's Hawaiian bun combines to provide a pleasant sweet and savory twist to the standard fast-food fish sandwich. The filet is also rather generous in size. You won't go hungry with this.

Walk the plank but don't jump off

5. McDonald's Filet-O-Fish — $2.50

McDonald's Filet-O-Fish
McDonald's Filet-O-Fish

This sandwich is comically tiny. So why is this ranked so high? While it's terribly unremarkable, if you purchase it through the painfully slow McDonald's mobile app, it will cost you only $2.50 (limit one per day). It's a real bargain, so if you're on a tight budget, this is a steal compared to the other sandwiches on this list.

Throw it back

6. Wendy's Crispy Panko Fish Sandwich — $7.99

Wendy's Crispy Panko Fish Sandwich
Wendy's Crispy Panko Fish Sandwich

I usually have high expectations for Wendy's, so that may color this placement. But the sandwich really doesn't offer anything unique and almost seems like an afterthought.

7. Jack in the Box Fish Sandwich — $3.29

Jack in the Box Fish Sandwich
Jack in the Box Fish Sandwich

The price is good, but that's about the only thing this sandwich has going for it. It's just so boring. It's as if CEO Jack said, "just put together the most basic fish sandwich you can. Most of our customers drive through after 2 a.m., drunk and/or high off their ass. They won't know the difference."

8. Carl's Jr. Redhook Beer-Battered Fish Sandwich — $4.99

Carl's Jr. Redhook Beer-Battered Fish Sandwich
Carl's Jr. Redhook Beer-Battered Fish Sandwich

This tasted like lettuce and bread. The fish barely registered. I can't confirm this, but I may be the only person to ever order this sandwich at this location, because the cashier expressed a mix of surprise and cautious joy, perhaps because they finally get to trot out this dud. I'm glad I brought her some happiness. This sandwich brought me none. I probably can't look at Redhook beer the same way again.

20,000 leagues under the sea and into hell

9. Wienerschnitzel Sea Dog — $4.99

Wienerschnitzel Sea Dog
Wienerschnitzel Sea Dog

Look, I should have known this was going to be a disaster when I drove into the parking lot and was greeted by a woman in a Wienerschnitzel uniform angrily directing me to a parking spot. This seemed highly unnecessary as the entire parking lot was completely empty, which I suspect is par for the course at this branch.

Conversely, the counter service was kind and impeccable, but that's about the only good thing you could say about this visit.

The Sea Dog, a term reserved for crusty old sailors (see: Horatio McCallister), is an apt name for this tube of sadness. The dramatically-sized fish stick is mostly breading surround a scant smattering of fish (allegedly Alaskan Pollock). The bun is overpowering and dominates every bite. The tartar sauce tastes like it's made up entirely of mayonnaise.

To truly sink into the depths of Sea Dog despair, I ate this alone on the outdoor Wienerschnitzel patio that faced a busy city street and sidewalk. It was an overcast late Saturday afternoon. There was a chilling breeze. My surroundings sounded like a ghost town, yet the street was endlessly busy with automobiles. The isolation I felt at this moment was intense. It is only in this state of spiritual darkness should one consume a Sea Dog.

I can only assume that an embittered product manager submitted this as a glorious f– you on their last day of employment (for which I salute you), only to be shocked months later when they see posters of this plastered all over Wienerschnitzels across the nation. In this hypothetical scenario, upon seeing the horror that they had unleashed onto the world, our product manager does penance by volunteering to clean port-a-potties at political fundraisers, which is still far more desirable than peddling Sea Dogs.

Avoid at all costs and stick with their chili dogs, which are agreeable when purchased with a coupon.